Omen
by algie888
Summary: One for Sorrow. Why was it so true? What had he ever done wrong?


_One for Sorrow_

_Two for Joy_

_Three for a Girl_

_Four for a Boy_

_Five for Silver_

_Six for Gold_

_Seven for a tale never to be told_

Magpies have been famed for being creatures of mischief, animal familiars of demons, witches, even the Devil. According to legend, if you fail to acknowledge a lone magpie, bad luck will fall upon you. How would you react if I told you it was true?

If this story were false, then this scene would be set in a graveyard at midnight, with owls hooting in the distance and cracks of lightning shooting across the sky. But this story isn't false. It's true. So it will be set were it happened.

The garden _wasn't_ stormy, it _wasn't_ dark, and it _wasn't_ creepy or eerie in any way. However, the magnolias _were _in full bloom, the sun _was _shining, and there _were _quite a few birds out (but none of them owls).

Robin sat down on the muddy, wet grass, swiping his slick palms against the damp meadow. The magnolias were in full bloom. Dick walked over to a flower bed, and plucked a single Arum lily and twirled it through his finger tips. His mother's favourite flower.

A magpie landed directly in front of Dick, a flurry of black and white feathers. Dick jerked, surprised.

Robin stared down at the magpie. The magpie cocked its head to the side, and then Robin mirrored its action. Bird against bird.

Robin tilted his head upwards, trying to hold in his tears. It was useless. He felt as though he were trying to stop a flood with an umbrella made of paper. Four years to the day. For years since that day.

The magpie fixed Robin with a beady eye, like a beetle shell set into its face. It seemed to be asking him a question. _What is wrong?_

Robin let out a choked sob and fell to his knees, not caring if he ruined his new black mourning suit by splattering mud over the knees.

"They're gone." He sobbed, looking at the bird. "They're gone!" He repeated it under his breath, rocking back and forth, doing his best to calm himself down. It wasn't working.

_Yes. So what?_

Robin glared at the magpie. "What do y- Oh, Jesus. I'm talking to a _bird_."

The magpie looked slightly offended. If Robin were in a better mood, he'd have said that the magpie's feathers had been ruffled. This wasn't the time for jokes.

Robin moved so that he was sitting cross-legged on the muddy ground, his chin resting in his hands. "I didn't know that it was going to happen." He murmured. "It was all my fault. They didn't fight Zucco because of me. They didn't go offstage because it was my debut. It's my fault they died."

The bird hopped about, picking worms from the mud.

Dick looked at the bird. "My," he said, his voice choking up, "don't you look entertained?" He paused, "If there is an entertained, shouldn't there be an _exit_tained? I-" He groaned. "Who am I kidding. There's a time and a place."

The bird cawed, as though it were laughing.

"It's all right for you! All you care is that there's enough shiny things for you to steal, or if someone says 'hello, mister magpie'!" Robin slammed his fist into the ground, creating a small crater in the mud. "Do you understand? They were taken from me. It's all my fault."

The bird flexed its wings.

"I... I just don't know if I can live without them, you know? The circus, it was my whole life. They were my whole life. Even though it's been four years, I don't know."

The bird buried its head under its wing.

"I really like living with Bruce, but he's not my dad. My dad's my dad. Obviously." Dick shook his head rapidly, as though that would eradicate the thought. "I'm rambling. Sorry." Dick laughed humourlessly, squeezing his eyes so that the tears wouldn't seep through. "I'm talking to a bird- goddammit!" He opened his eyes and let the tears drip down his cheeks.

"It's their birthday today, see. It never feels right to walk around with a smile on my face when mum should have been thirty-eight today. It's not right." He sighed, doodling with his index finger into the mud. "I love them. If I go on today, go home and then head to the Mountain, I'll feel like I've betrayed them. I can't ever do that to them."

The bird lifted its head and skewered Dick with its sunken eyes.

"I feel like a fish that's been stuffed into a pair of boots, or a fire put out. I don't want to go on. But Gotham needs me. Why must I be so important?" He sighed. "I just want to be able to go home and see them smile at me. I don't want a hug, or a kiss, or even a whole week. I just want to see their smiling faces again. Their loving faces. They loved me, but I took a new family. Can that be right?"

"I just... I love them. And I miss them. Is that so wrong?" He asked. He wanted the words to come out louder, more forceful. Instead, they came out a quiet whimper. "I just want them back."

Dick bent over, shaking as he whispered to himself. Robin sang quickly in Romania, comforting himself in his mother tongue, just how Bruce used to when he had first arrived. Just like his mother had when he had been a baby crying during a storm.

_"Am pierdut o batistuţă, Cine a găsit-o..." _

He sobbed, his tears hitting the ground, mixing with the mud and the dirt. The tracks on his cheeks shined in the sunlight. He imagined someone holding him. He wanted his mother to comfort him, his father to send away the horrible nightmare. He wanted someone to save him.

The bird took its leave of Richard, flying off.


End file.
